A Halloween Tale
by Madigirl
Summary: A new look at an urban legend, as Richie tries to return a sweater.


"A little more to the left." Joe stood next to the ladder as Duncan tried, unsuccessfully, it seemed, to hang a large plastic pumpkin from the ceiling.

"You want to come up here and do it yourself?" Duncan grumbled, as he made one last attempt to secure the string under a ceiling panel.

Joe was about to make a brilliant retort about bar tabs and owing favors, when Duncan got that recognizable far away look in his eye. The door opened and everyone relaxed as Richie stepped in.

"Hey guys." He sat on a barstool and looked around at the decorations. "Looks like things are coming along nicely for the party tonight."

Joe walked behind the bar. "Yeah." he said, looking around with an appreciative nod. "I think things are looking sufficiently spooky. Can I grab you gents a drink; soda, beer?"

"I could use a beer." Duncan said, as he joined them at the bar.

Joe raised a questioning eyebrow at Richie. "You?"

Richie picked up a handful of candy corn from the bowl on the bar. "Nah, I'm good." He tossed a few into his mouth. "Speaking of spooky, you guys are never going to believe what happened to me last night."

"Do tell." Joe winked at Duncan as he set a beer in front of him. "Black cat cross your path?"

Duncan laughed. "Drove your motorcycle under a ladder?"

"No, I know." Joe grabbed a cup of coffee and joined the two on the other side of the bar. "You broke a mirror on another mirror, and now you have 14 years bad luck."

"Very funny guys. If you don't want to hear, just say so." Richie stood, getting ready to leave.

"Sit down, Richie." Duncan put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We want to hear. Don't we Joe?"

Richie looked at Joe, who shrugged. "We were just messing with ya, kid. So what happened?"

Richie sat down and sort of leaned forward, anxious to tell his tale. "Well, it was really weird, you know? I was driving down by Mifflin St., when I see this girl out hitchhiking. No coat or anything, even though it was real cold. Just a sweater."

"Rough neighborhood." Joe commented.

"Yeah." Richie agreed. "So I stopped to see what I could do to help her, and she says she needs a ride home because her boyfriend ditched her out there in the middle of the street. I tell her to hop on the back of my cycle, and I'd play Sir Galahad and make sure she got home in one piece."

"Very noble of you." Duncan smiled into his beer.

Joe laughed. "Let me guess, the distressed damsel just happened to be young and pretty."

"Well, yeah." Richie ate some more candy to cover his embarrassment. "But that's not the point. See, I took her to where she told me to go, and we end up stopping in front of a cemetery. I expect her to go into one of the houses across the street, but instead, she runs into the cemetery. Now me, I'm thinking this girl's nuts and needs help, right? So I run in after her, only I can't find her. I do find the sweater though. It's sitting on this tombstone that reads Hannah Murphy, Born August 21,1970. Died October 31, 1987."

"That is odd, Richie." Duncan said. "Now tell how you know someone, who knows someone, who bought a haunted Cadillac."

Richie raises his hand in a sort of boy scout salute. "I swear its true, Mac. I even have the sweater to prove it."

Joe pointed with his cup. "You my friend had a run in with Halloween Hannah. This time every year some poor guy ends up giving her a ride. She's a very popular ghost."

"Yeah, but see, that's it. She's not. She's one of us."

Duncan frowned. "What are you saying, Richie?"

"I'm saying I felt her, you know. Got the buzz. She's one of us, all right." Richie looked at Duncan. "I was thinking that maybe she needs help. I mean, what if she's confused or something. What if she's been wandering around that cemetery for 17 years."

"That's highly unlikely, don't you think, Richie?" Duncan said, reasonably. "But if it makes you feel better, maybe Joe here can do some checking. Find out where she lived, how she died?"

Joe shrugged, and moved to head to the back room. "Give me a few, and I'll see what I can dig up."

Later that evening Richie and Duncan stood in front of a ranch style house in a quiet residential area. All the lights were off, despite the fact that trick or treating was in full force. Duncan checked a piece of paper he held in his hand. "Well, this seems to be the right address, but it doesn't look like anyone's home. Maybe Hannah's parents moved away."

Richie watched the house closely. "Hey, I think I see a flickering light in there, like a tv or something. I bet they just turned off the lights to keep the trick or treaters away."

"I don't know, Richie." Duncan said, a little uncertainly. "I don't know if we should disturb them either."

"Come on, Mac." Richie prodded. "Aren't you curious? Besides, what if she really does need our help."

Nodding, Duncan rang the bell. The door was answered by a neatly dressed woman, with greying hair. "Well, you look to old to be trick or treaters." she said with a wary smile.

Duncan cleared his throat. "We were wondering, Mrs. Murphy, if we could ask you about Hannah."

The woman's smile quickly disappeared. "I don't know how many times in one lifetime I'm going to have to say this, I will not talk to reporters!"

Mrs. Murphy tried to close the door, but Richie stepped in front of it, and held it open. "Please, ma'am could you just tell me if this is her sweater?"

The woman looked at the sweater and then at the young man holding it. "You've seen her." she said simply.

"She's alive then?" asked Duncan.

"No. No, she died 17 years ago tonight. Come in, won't you?" Duncan and Richie followed the woman into a tidy living room and sat in the chairs that were offered. "This happens every year, you know. Someone always sees her. Most people think that its because of the incident at the morgue. That sort of thing creates myths, I guess." She shook her head, sadly. "One reporter even suggested since she had been adopted, she might have been an alien or something. I stopped talking to reporters after that." She reached down and picked up the black cat that had been weaving in and out of her legs, and absently petted it.

Richie gave Duncan a significant look. "You mentioned an incident at the morgue?"

"After the crash, her car was hit by a drunken driver, she and her boyfriend were taken to the morgue." Her voice trembled as she recalled, once the again, the circumstances of that night. "But when we came to identify the body, it was gone."

Duncan leaned forward and stroked the cat, causing it to purr, contentedly. "That must have been terribly hard for you." he said. After waiting in polite silence, he continued. "You say someone sees her every year. Have you ever seen her?"

"Oh, no." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "No, she never comes to me."

"And they never found the body?" Duncan asked as gently as he could.

The woman shook her head, suddenly unable to talk.

Duncan stood, and offered his hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Murphy. I appreciate you talking with us." He was convinced now that there was an immortal out there who was at the least confused, and probably unaware of what she was. "I imagine you get a lot of thrill seekers."

"Oh, I knew you weren't one of them." Mrs. Murphy said, dabbing at her eyes with a small cloth handkerchief. "You had the sweater." She smiled, slightly as she shook Duncan's proffered hand. "And you never mentioned her head."

Richie looked confused. "Her head?"

"The thrill seekers always say she is carrying her head." Seeing the two men exchange concerned looks, and mistaking them for confusion, she asked, "You knew didn't you?"

"Knew what Mrs. Murphy?"

The woman frowned, finding this part of the story the hardest to tell. "She was in the front seat when they were hit. Obviously, there was a lot of shattered glass." Mrs. Murphy shuddered and her eyes took on a haunted look. "My daughter, Hannah, was decapitated."


End file.
